


Sketch

by Elisexyz



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Thomas had, in all honesty, forgotten all about it.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	Sketch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [techieturnover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/techieturnover/gifts).



> Written for the Tumblr prompt: ["You have a picture of me? On your fridge?" + Flinthamilton.](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/617664039969079296/23-you-have-a-picture-of-me-on-your-fridge) This is just... idiocy and cuddles LOL. I hope you will enjoy it!

Thomas had, in all honesty, forgotten all about it.

It was a picture that Miranda sent him to brighten his afternoon, one time when he was stuck at a meeting, and the sight of James stuffing his face with pie did actually work wonders on his mood.

He considered using it as his phone background, but James was still so tentative and unsure around him at times that he was scared it’d make him too uncomfortable, so he decided against it. He couldn’t resist the temptation of putting it up on his fridge, though, where his boyfriend was unlikely to see it, since they rarely spent their time at Thomas’ apartment.

The picture fits in rather nicely, between the spot where he pins his grocery list and one of the many postcards littering the fridge. It always brings a smile to Thomas’ face when his eyes fall on it, and it’s now become such an integral part of his house that he really didn’t think anything of it when he brought James over.

That is, until he enters the kitchen, where James was supposed to help himself to a glass of water, and he finds him standing in front of the closed fridge instead, staring.

“James?” he calls out, frowning. “Is everything alright?”

When James turns around, he looks pretty dumbstruck. “You have a picture of me?” he eventually asks. “On your fridge?”

Thomas’ first reaction, after a thoroughly unhelpful ‘oh, right, _that’_ , is the unpleasant feeling that he has just mis-stepped, which he had tried hard not to. He thinks of how James can still be sometimes so _shy_ and how he has a tendency to retreat to himself out of fear, and he can’t help uttering: “I can explain.”

James doesn’t look mad or scared, though, just — curious. A little amazed, perhaps. He turns around so that he’s properly facing him, and he waits.

Thomas finds that he actually _can’t_ explain, not in the way he’d meant it.

“Well, it’s a beautiful picture,” is what he ends up saying, coming up with a smile. “Of a beautiful man, whom I really care about — so I wanted it on my fridge.”

James flushes, noticeably, his eyes dropping as he shakes his head and smiles slightly, thank _god_. “I’m stuffing my face with pie,” he protests, a little amused.

Thomas’ smile widens, and he steps forward. “And looking stunning while you do so,” he assures, which earns him a scoff. As Thomas reaches out, James takes the final step to close the distance separating them, looking back to the fridge with a final huff.

“You might be the only man in his thirties I know who still puts postcards and pictures on his fridge,” he teases, his fingers climbing up his biceps.

Thomas, hands on James’ hips and a wave of deep affection flooding him, smiles widely as he snorts. “Is this coming from the man with a collection of ships in bottles?” he can’t help pocking fun at him in return.

James concedes the point with a tilt of his head and an eyebrow raise, then he easily tucks himself in the crook of Thomas’ neck, breathing him in.

In the moments of silence that follow, Thomas sobers up, running his fingers through the back of James’ hair as he asks, quietly: “So you don’t mind?”

“No,” he is quick to answer, soft and thankfully sincere, as far as he can tell. “Though you could have picked a better picture,” James adds then, jokingly.

“It’s _perfect_ ,” he protests, his tone as solemn as he can make it.

He is half ready to throw himself body and soul into a whole lecture on the _beautiful work of art_ that is that picture, when James huffs a ‘If you say so’ and steals his chance at a reply by pulling back and dragging him into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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